


the drunk mind speaks the sober heart

by trippingtozier



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie obviously cares about Richie, M/M, Richie gets drunk and word vomits a little bit, even though he hates trying to decipher Richie's texts, i'm so sorry for being bad at tags !!, so that's that ig, there's a happy ending for once, we stan a healthy relationship in the making
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 14:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trippingtozier/pseuds/trippingtozier
Summary: Richie’s not the best at saying how he feels





	the drunk mind speaks the sober heart

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a really shit day, so I figured writing about my boys would make things better

**Bitchie**

**11:49 p.m.**

eda

**Bitchie**

**11:50 p.m.**

ed s

**Bitchie**

**11:51**

gi lnove yoou

**Bitchie**

**11:51 p.m.**

where are yoou? i midss youuuuu?!

**Spaghedward**

**11:54 p.m.**

Richie, what the fuck? What is your problem?

**Bitchie**

**11:56 p.m.**

yes 

**Spaghedward**

**11:57 p.m.**

Are you okay… or…?

**Bitchie**

**11:58 p.m.**

no

**Bitchie**

**11:58 p.m.**

Maybve?

**Bitchie**

**12:00 a.m.**

can you cfall me?f

Eddie rolls his eyes, but taps the call button on the top of his screen anyway. He raises the phone to his ear and huffs impatiently when it rings and goes to voicemail. Eddie frowns, but a little bit of panic wiggles its way into his thoughts.

**Spaghedward**

**12:03 a.m.**

You didn’t pick up.

**Bitchie**

**12:06 a.m.**

sorry, i fhogrot that i had finger.s call again?

Eddie sighs, and taps the phone button again. It’s easier than trying to decipher Richie’s messages.

_ “Eddie! My baby!” _

“Not your baby, Richie. What’s up?” When the line goes quiet, Eddie checks to see if the call dropped. “You still there?”

_ “You said you weren’t my baby,”  _ Richie mumbles petulantly.  _ “That makes me sad!” _

“Okay, Rich, fine. I’m your baby.”

_ “Good,”  _ Richie’s voice is quiet and muffled. When he speaks, Eddie almost can’t hear him.  _ “I’m really drunk.” _

“Yeah, no shit.”

_ “I fucked up, Spaghetti.” _

“How did you fuck up?” 

_ “With you,”  _ Richie clarifies. “ _ I’m sorry, Eds.” _

“What are you talking about?”

_ “Fucking up.” _

“No, no, I got that part. What do you mean ‘with you’?”

_ “I have feelings,”  _ Richie breathes heavily into the phone.  _ “I don’t like having these feelings because they cause other feelings. Bad feelings.” _

“Uh-huh. What kind of bad feelings are we talking about?”

_ “Jealousy, mostly. A lot a lot a lot of sadness.” _

Eddie swallows. “Where are you?”

_ “Uh, I’m not really sure. Bev might know. She was here with Ben a little bit ago.” _

“Okay, hold on. Don’t hang up, alright? I’m gonna text Ben.”

Eddie takes his phone away from his ear and fires off a quick message. After what feels like an eternity, but is only a couple minutes, Ben sends a reply. In his message he includes an address- thank god.

“Richie? You there?”

_ “Mm, yeah, I think so.” _

Eddie laughs quietly. “I’m coming to get you. Don’t move, okay?”

_ “Okee dokee artichokee.” _

Eddie sneaks out of his window, taking just long enough to throw a sweatshirt on, before he’s taking off. As he jogs- thankful for the suffocatingly small town and scarily close houses- he checks his phone every few minutes to see if Richie’s sent any messages.

“Eds!”

At the sound of the familiar, garbled voice, Eddie lets out a sigh of relief. He looks around until he spies the mop of black curls staggering towards him, and meets Richie halfway.

“Hey, hey. You okay?”

Richie shakes his head. “Kinda want to die.”

“Well, save that thought for later. C’mon, I’m taking you home.” Richie leans against Eddie and doesn’t speak, which Eddie counts as a small blessing.

The walk to Richie’s house takes four times as long as Eddie’s frantic jog. Once their feet hit Richie’s porch, Eddie doesn’t have a clue as to what time it is. Richie fumbles with his keys for a few moments before they can get the door open.

“I want you to go upstairs while I make some tea.”

“Thanks, mom,” Richie replies sarcastically, but he starts to slowly but surely make his way up the stairs. He’s halfway there when the tea is ready, and Eddie follows patiently behind him. After Richie is dumped into his bed, sans sneakers, and the mug of tea is on the bedside table, he speaks again. “I’m sorry about this.”

“It’s fine. Just make sure you don’t throw up on anything important.”

Richie nods, taking the tea from beside the bed and sipping it slowly. Eddie busies himself with making a makeshift bed on the floor.

“Eds, you don’t gotta do that.”

“Uh, yeah, I think I’d rather. When you’re awake and scrambling to throw up in the morning, I don’t want to be in the way.”

Richie pouts.

“Plus, you stink. You smell like whiskey and vodka.”

“Help me up and I’ll go brush my teeth.”

“It’ll take us forever to get to the bathroom,” Eddie shrugs. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“You hate my floor! You say it takes you forever to get comfortable.”

“I’m gonna be even less comfortable with you clinging to me all night long.”

“But if you don’t sleep in a bed, you’ll be all cranky tomorrow morning!”

Eddie feels his cheeks warm, especially at Richie’s dopey, all-knowing grin. He climbs into the bed beside his best friend, but glares at him. “This proves nothing.”

“Okay, Eds. Whatever you say.” Richie shuffles closer until their foreheads are touching. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. This is what friends are for.”

Eddie wakes up, startled by a hand encasing his own. “Rich?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” The hand stays wrapped around Eddie’s.

“What’re you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“Well, now that I’m awake, care to share?”

“You’re going to be mad.”

“No, I won’t.”

“...Okay.”

Eddie stares at Richie intently. “If you’re still drunk, then maybe this should wait.”

“Not that drunk. Only a little.”

“Save it for tomorrow, I’ll still be here.” Eddie closes his eyes, relaxing into the comforting lull of sleep.

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie keeps his eyes closed and he focuses on trying to breathe. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“You’re drunk, Richie.”

“Like I said, not that drunk. I mean it, Eds. I love you.” A shaky hand comes up to cup Eddie’s cheek. “This is really shitty timing, I know, but if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I ever would.” The hand falls. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

“I love you too, you turd.” Eddie still hasn’t opened his eyes. “Do you think I’d sneak out to someone’s house to pick up just  _ any  _ drunken idiot?”

“It’s what best friends do.”

“No. Best friends pick you up, make  _ you  _ sleep on the floor, and then take videos to document your hangover the next morning.”

“You picked me up, didn’t make me sleep on the floor, and will probably still take videos of a hungover me when I wake up. What does that make us?”

Eddie frowns as a blush burns across his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

The room falls quiet and Eddie focuses on listening to Richie’s steady breathing as it settles.

“I love you too,” Eddie says aloud, though Richie is asleep. “And we’re going to talk about this more in the morning, okay?” He leans over and presses a kiss to Richie’s forehead.

He’s nearly asleep himself when a soft whisper answers, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> got any commentary?


End file.
